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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689923">Movements</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananichu/pseuds/bananichu'>bananichu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Music, Bittersweet, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, accidentally gave msby players personalities and now im attached to them, deaf! Hinata, trauma and its after effects</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:16:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananichu/pseuds/bananichu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shouyou feels like he’s drowning in broad daylight, and every shaky breath he takes doesn’t change a damn thing because he still can't breathe. His life keeps taking sharp turns, and he can't keep up with it all because it feels like he's been tossed into a maze blindfolded. </p><p> </p><p>Shouyou gets a new job, realizes life is meant to be lived actively, meets Atsumu, rekindles old passions, falls in love, and finds himself again. Not necessarily in that order.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou &amp; Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>AtsuHina Treasure Box</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. first movement — moderato</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello! this is an au that has kind of been living inside my brain for a while, and I just needed to get it written. When sign is used, there will be italics to indicate so! Enjoy ;D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shouyou’s brain was a repeating cycle of strings clashing as they met bow, vibrations rocking through him yet producing no sound. The notes of Elgar’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cello Concerto in E Minor </span>
  </em>
  <span>flashed through his mind, beating in his skull with every pound of foot on concrete. It filled the flat silence surrounding him, swirling from one ear to the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Breathe in. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Breathe out. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffs of air escaped his lips as he finally ground to a stop, not quite pushed to the point of resting his hands on his knees, but certainly approaching it if the burn in his legs and hunching of his back told him anything. The early rays of sunshine peeked out from the clouds, washing Shouyou’s face in soft golden shades as he straightened, breathing back to normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou reached up to his ears, fiddled for a second, and then the dulled sounds of the world came crashing back in as he upped the volume on his hearing aids. There wasn’t much he could really hear these days, just the faint humming of the ongoings of his surroundings filtering in through his hearing aids. Tufts of orange hair hid the gleaming white devices, accents of equally bright orange running through them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The buzzing of his phone snapped him out of his silent contemplation, dragging his eyes down to the disruptive device. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>kozu</b>
</p><p>
  <span>good luck on the first day at ur job</span>
</p><p>
  <span>not that you need it </span>
</p><p>
  <span>volleyball nerd</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou rolled his eyes playfully; Kenma hadn’t ceased in teasing him for picking the one job of all offers that would bring him closer to his old obsession during most of senior year and college (the years he had known Kenma). He had been searching for a permanent job for a while now, because part timing at the cafe wasn’t really cutting it anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, when his old sports management professor emailed him the posting for an assistant manager position for a professional, </span>
  <em>
    <span>tier-fucking-one, </span>
  </em>
  <span>team in Osaka, he had bounced on the opportunity. It also helped that his professor (a retired manager for </span>
  <em>
    <span>several </span>
  </em>
  <span>tier one teams) had apparently written the Head Coach, Samson Foster, a lengthy recommendation for Shouyou after he submitted his application. The interview had gone amazingly, and he had received a ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>congratulations, you got the job!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>only a few days later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>me </b>
</p><p>
  <span>thx b</span>
</p><p>
  <span>u n kuroo still meeting me after for lunch?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>kozu</b>
</p><p>
  <span>ye ofc </span>
</p><p>
  <span>kuroo says ‘hi i miss u babe’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>me</b>
</p><p>
  <span>omg hi miss u too baby (´ε｀ )♡</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>kozu</b>
</p><p>
  <span>i feel like im third wheeling my own relationship</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou snorted, pocketing his phone as he turned to run back to his apartment; he had an hour left to prepare for his first day, and he didn’t want to show up smelling like sweat and god knows what. The soundless notes of music followed him back, stomping around in every free area in his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scars crawled out from the edges of where his ears met his neck, long faded into his skin at this point. Identical scars were mirrored down his back and the sides of his arms, but those were easily hidden in long sleeves and sweaters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered them when they were bright and angry and red, pulsing on his skin every time he stared at the mirror, every time he caught someone’s eyes lingering on them. His hands shook the longer he stared into the mirror, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled back to reveal something in between a scowl and grimace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His ears rang, hearing aids long clawed out and abandoned on the sink counter. The scars seemed to sing for something</span>
  <span>—something he couldn’t give, something he couldn’t make himself look at, something he could never return to. Furious tears gathered in his eyes, and curled hands formed into fists joined them. The reflection in the mirror taunted him with every phantom pain blazing across his scars, and the hatred built up in his unused vocal chords. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A broken mirror stared back at him, shards reflecting a red that bled into his irises, and the notes he would never properly hear again rose to a deafening sound in his ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was twenty minutes past nine by the time he bounded off the train, taking slow controlled breaths as he approached the location he had scribbled onto his inner wrist. The coach had asked Shouyou to come in a little bit after practice officially started so he could have the chance to let the team know a new manager would be joining them. He hadn’t objected; rather, he preferred to slip in while things were happening so he could simply observe at first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shouyou had been emailing the coach for the past week now, and he had just been sent all the information late last night for his first official day. A messenger bag stuffed to the brim with upcoming plays, schedules, player profiles, diet plans, etc, bounced on his hip as he came to a standstill outside the entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had paused over a few familiar players</span>
  <span>—Bokuto Koutarou, a friend of Kuroo’s from high school; Sakusa Kiyoomi, a player he had followed for a bit due to his presence in the national arena since a young age, and Miya Atsumu, a player that if he was held at gun-point, he would admit he’d harbored a crush on for quite a while. Shouyou had known about him when he was part of a duo with his brother, and then continued to follow him after the two split. He was exactly the type of setter Shouyou couldn’t help but love; bold, daring, demanding, and always managing to pull of the craziest moves (and attractive as fuck). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gym struck a daunting figure, mid-morning sun casting shadows down the fronts of windows that normally wouldn’t be menacing if Shouyou was in the right state of mind. He was gripped with nerves that hadn’t appeared till after slipping into a pair of business casual slacks and white, button up shirt. The fear of actually going to a job that required extreme levels of human interaction had slammed into him as he fiddled with his hearing aids, habitually playing with the volume inputs as he spoke out loud to become accustomed to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside of routine interactions with people at his old job (he </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>worked the register unless there were no other options, decided by Daichi after the </span>
  <em>
    <span>incident), </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shouyou was rarely forced into environments where he had to speak. His best friends both knew sign, and his family was well versed in it as well. </span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou took a deep breath, reaching up to double check his aids, which laid against his ears rather loosely. He steeled himself and threw the doors open, only to instantly black out as something slammed into his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Atsumu had decided that their team had been cursed at some point. Cursed with being unable to retain new employees. He realized it around the fourth time they had managed to chase off their newly hired assistant manager, much to the vexation of Coach Foster. He didn’t want to admit it outright, but he knew their team had the tendency to … </span>
  <em>
    <span>overwhelm </span>
  </em>
  <span>people, especially green-horned assistant managers. If it wasn’t him and Bokuto’s generally obnoxious presences (paired with the pranks that they would inevitably assault their newest addition with), then it was Sakusa’s overtly in-your-face health procedures that he forced the new manager through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when Coach Foster gathered them during the beginning of morning practice with tired eyes and shoulders that were already dropping, Atsumu had an inkling that the announcement would concern their aforementioned curse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging </span>
  </em>
  <span>you all to be on your best behavior today. The managers and I recently found someone who could be a great fit for assistant manager, and we need all the help we can with our rising position in the rankings.” The coach’s reminder that they were rapidly improving encouraged a few cheers and whistles through the crowd, before falling silent at the glare he shot at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His name is Hinata Shouyou</span>
  <span>—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That name sounds familiar,” Bokuto, who had sidled up to Atsumu at some point, mumbled, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. A beat passed, before he simply shrugged and moved away, most likely going over to bother Sakusa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—and he should be joining us around 9:30. Again, do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>chase this one off too, or god help us,” The coach trailed off, eyes roaming through the crowd (and Atsumu definitely didn’t imagine the way his sharp eyes lingered on him and Bokuto), before nodding once and walking away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The team usually split up for independent practice on Tuesdays, which is why Atsumu found himself rolling over a cart of volleyballs to an empty court near the entrance to practice serves (and so he could be the first to see the new manager). Bokuto followed him, dragging Sakusa along by extension; the two settled—one more grudgingly than the other—on the other side of the court, loosening their limbs and stretching in preparation for receiving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time passed pretty quickly after that, the three falling into a steady rhythm of serving and receiving. Atsumu kept up a steady pace, blocking out noises and sights so he could tunnel his vision for serving. A sharp snap of the wrist, the smack of the ball, and the feeling of satisfaction cycled through his mind as he fell into a trance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud creaking sound drew his attention as he was snapping his wrist for the serve, and he could only watch in horror as the ball soared completely off course. At the same moment, the opening of the door drew his attention, and his horror heightened at the fact that the ball was flying at a frightening speed towards the entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of ball smacking against skin filled the gym, Atsumu’s lips parting in shock as he watched the person the skin belonged to dropped like a log to the ground, a shock of orange standing out amongst the washed out tones of the gym floor. Silence held in the gym for a moment before a flurry of movement and shouts filled it, everyone running towards the supine figure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu was the first to reach the man (which he had realized as he drew closer, orange turning into tufts of hair, hard lines of the figure turning into a rather fit body and chiseled face), squinting as he took in the harsh red lines of the volleyball now printed onto his nose and cheeks. He winced; Atsumu knew from first hand experience that being smacked in the face by a volleyball at volatile speeds was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the team had crowded around the man at this point, and Atsumu could feel Bokuto breathing down his neck in his attempts to catch a glimpse. Coach Foster was kneeled to his right, hand reaching out to hesitantly tap the man’s cheek. The moving of eyes behind the man’s closed lids, and then suddenly—they snapped open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Atsumu’s breath stilled; brilliant hazel eyes stared up at them, briefly pausing to make eye contact with Atsumu (or Bokuto, who knows, but a small part of him would later admit that he wished it was him they paused on), before flitting away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou watched the crowd with narrowed eyes as the coach helped him sit up. At the first hint of loud noises he had instinctively reached up and turned off his aids, but it now left him in virtually complete silence as the mouths of the players began to move at rapid paces. He could rely on lip reading to some extent, but if they were talking as fast as he assumed they were, his skills would do him no good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coach said something that drew everyone’s attention off Shouyou, and he used that reprieve to turn the volume on his aids back up; a stream of constant noise slotted into his mind instantly, and he finally caught up to the chattering surrounding him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—new manager?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—sumu, you are an absolute idiot, I can’t believe you almost killed hi—” </span>
</p><p><span>“—burgers after practice?”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“—amn, the curse is working fast this time.” </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hold on. Pause. Rewind. Back up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Curse?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Was the first word out of Shouyou’s lips to his new team, but he couldn’t exactly take them back now, as everyone’s heads turned to him in unison, effectively capturing the deer-in-headlights look. He barely refrained from fiddling with his hearing aids, curling his fingers to halt their movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” Atsumu pressed forward with a playful smile to offer Shouyou a hand up, “jus’ a little something we joke about.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou peeled himself off the floor, snatching his bag up with him as he appraised the team in front of him. Atsumu had let go of his hand, but hadn’t moved away, copper eyes staring holes into the side of his face. Shouyou fidgeted before quickly dropping into a sloppy bow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hinata Shouyou, the new assistant manager. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” He said, voice steady even though he felt anything but. Tumultuous melodies that didn’t quite mean anything to him anymore crescendoed in his mind, and his palms felt sweaty in the tight grip of each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Murmurs went around the players as they all slowly introduced themselves, welcoming smiles on their faces. Atsumu had moved away after the first few introductions, but Shouyou couldn’t help but continue to catch the player’s gaze throughout the myriad of names and faces. His eyes were narrowed, head tilted in an almost calculating manner every time Shouyou glanced over, which sent a small shiver down his spine. He felt like he was being inspected, and had been found wanting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A heavy clap of a hand on his shoulder snapped Shouyou out of his stupor, his eyes flying to Coach Foster, who stood by his side with an easy-going grin. The sounds of the gym filtered through his ears as if they were underwater, and he desperately wanted to claw his aids out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Hinata mentioned he wanted to tell you this himself, so I’ll let him give a small announcement before we return to practice and I whisk him away for orientation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou felt the small smile on his lips tremble when the attention returned to him, hands curled into loose fists at his side. He caught Atsumu’s eyes again, holding the look for a little longer this time before looking away. He bit the inside of his cheek, took a deep breath, opened his mouth and raised his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m deaf—not completely—but approaching it. I have hearing aids, know asl and jsl fluently, and can read lips pretty well,” Shouyou announced, signing simultaneously in the off chance that anyone recognized it, “This won’t stop me from doing my job, but please remember this if I don’t reply to you with my back turned.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence descended on the crowd of players as Shouyou rubbed the back of his neck, but he relaxed as the players began to nod and flash him understanding smiles. He even caught a few looks of awe amongst the players (namely Bokuto and Inunaki, who were sharing open mouthed grins), and the same considering look that had settled onto Atsumu’s face only deepened, lips curling into a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou settled himself on the bench next to a few of the assistant coaches, eyebrows furrowed as he flipped through the permanent schedule for the next few months. Coach Foster had handed him the finalized version at the end of a mini crash course for managerial jobs, telling him to ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>read this till you’re dreaming about it.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> The job was demanding, especially for a junior manager; the hours were grueling, and he had to be up with the players, while not being able to sleep till long after them. And he had quickly learned after talking to a few other managers that his position was almost a glorified babysitter for some of the more … boisterous players. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Shouyou-kun, is it?” A  voice broke into his ministrations, and he glanced up with a raised eyebrow at Atsumu, who was lingering in front of him with an unreadable smile. Bokuto stood off to his right, but with a beam of a smile instead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Call and ye shall receive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought with a hint of irony; the boisterous players that the others had hinted at were seemingly summoned by his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First names so soon, Atsumu-san?” Shouyou teased, setting aside the massive folder to give the two players his full attention. He could see other players listening to their conversation with half a ear, but he shrugged them off to smile at the two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou was having a hard enough time dealing with these two, he didn’t want to invite everyone else to talk to him. One part of him wanted to make a good impression as their new manager, but another part of him was hyperventilating at being so close to so many amazing professional players and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>asking for their autographs. He tried to dampen the stars in his eyes as he took the two of them in, one hand curling around his knee in an attempt to ground himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t believe in formalities!” Bokuto replied, bouncing on his toes like he was bursting with energy that didn’t have enough places to be used in. Shouyou stifled a laugh to make eye contact with Atsumu again, who had slowly sidled closer to his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it seems that neither do you,” Atsumu pointed out, a cattish quirk of his lips revealing amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, living in the States for a few years can do that to you,” Shouyou explained, and he grinned at the way the interest spilled across the two’s faces. Atsumu had graduated to joining Shouyou on the bench, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward to make eye contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool! Where’d you live in the states? How long? Can you speak English? What’s your favorite part of—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Atsumu cut into the barrage of questions Bokuto was throwing at Shouyou with a sharp smile, “but we came over to get your number so we can add you to the official team chat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the assistant manager, so you’ll be spending </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>of time with the players!” Bokuto added, smile just as strong even though he had been denied the answers to his earlier questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we thought we’d make it easier on you by just adding you in. And this way, you can get to know us better too. Two birds, one stone,” Atsumu finished with an easy grin, eyes curling into crescents. Shouyou hummed, pulling his phone out and handing it over without a second thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean so you idiots can torment the poor kid to the point he quits,” A new voice quipped, voice heavily laced with sarcasm. Shouyou looked over with a tiny internal squeal to see that Sakusa had joined them, face masked hooked underneath his chin and water bottle in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true, we want to be friends with him!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Omi-Omi, now that’s just rude.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kid?!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shouyou squawked once the admiration washed away, glaring at the smirks he received in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re definitely a kid compared to us, Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu teased, laughing brightly when Shouyou replied to that with a swat at the player’s shoulder. Shouyou felt a part of his mind still amongst the waves of strings and notes, slowly shifting until it settled. He had spent the past week growing nerves that were expelled as he eased into these interactions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m twenty one!” Shouyou retorted, eyes flashing in amusement at the way other players were hiding their laughter. Atsumu and Bokuto made no such attempts; obnoxious laughter rang out from both parties at the affronted look on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another note slid in, and Shouyou finally felt like he could breathe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The instrument was well covered in dust. The room it sat in was even dustier; the rays of sun filtering in through the large windows did nothing to alleviate this sense of age and time passing too quickly. Seemingly hundreds of sheets were stacked around the room, edges curling from past use. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A row of bows sat in the far corner of the room, separated from the instrument with purpose. If you looked closely, you could see the strings of the bows fraying and collapsing from overuse. A silence held in the room, coating every corner of it with melancholy and nostalgia for </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The instrument was black and brown and white and colorful yet filled with no color all at once, and it reminded, it made him remember, it forced him to relive, and, and, and—</span>
  <em>
    <span>and he screamed, shattering the silence of an age he could never return to. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone on the team, as well as all the coaches and managers lived in a relatively large apartment complex; the rooms were spread apart enough that it wasn’t suffocating, but close enough together to allow for urgent situations to be resolved quickly. Shouyou had turned away offers from the other managers to aid him in moving into his new two bedroom; the empty, stagnant rooms of his apartment held too many secrets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he rolled up his sleeves, rented a truck, and moved it all himself. It wasn’t much; mainly knick-knacks and small houseware items that weren’t already in the furnished apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scars shone on his skin as he approached the instrument, shoving gloves onto his hands before he slowly wrapped them around wood and strings, lowering it into a case, wheels scratching the floor as he lugged it behind him. A familiar choking fear settled around his throat, but he couldn’t leave it, he couldn’t let go, for his fear of forgetting was much more than remembering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The instrument was pushed into the new, empty room, left to stand still in the middle of a place that he would never allow himself to exist in again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I didn’t know you and Bokuto were that close,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Shouyou signed around a mouthful of rice and chicken that he had been shoveling into his mouth. He had only managed to grab a juice pouch before work, and the new levels of human interaction had taken a physical toll on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, we were rivals in high school and then got attached at the hip after we graduated,” Kuroo explained, mimicking Shouyou in the way he was eating. The oldest of the three tended to sign and speak, so he was always a bit of a mess during their weekly lunches. Kenma wrinkled his nose as he watched the two of them, completely calm in his small bites compared to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kuroo and Kenma had bounded into the gym at the end of practice, a shout and a much quieter ‘Shouyou!’ ringing out of them, he hadn’t expected Bokuto to spring up from where he was stretching to run at Kuroo. The two had chattered away at high speed and loud volume while Kenma rolled his eyes and slinked over to Shouyou, who had been in the middle of pushing Shuugo into a deeper stretch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou,” Kenma started, stopped, and then took a second where they just looked at each other. Shouyou stopped eating, and sat back as he waited for Kenma to gather his words. He swallowed, and a part of him knew where this was going. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Suga-san told me you didn’t go to the music therapy he recommended,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kenma started, and he watched Kuroo straighten up in worry as he understood what the other had signed. Shouyou exhaled, letting his eyes slide shut as the sun beat down on his face. He knew the two were waiting for him to open his eyes before continuing, seeing as he had flung his hearing aids into the middle of the table before digging in. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I couldn’t—” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shouyou paused, hands faltering as he peeled his eyes open to see the worried contemplation filling the faces of his best friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t explain how he had been planning on going, to the point that he had gotten on the bus and loaded the navigation in his gps. How he had arrived at the music center, only to stutter and pause around the corner as he watched students filter in and out carrying cases of instruments. How he had turned away, tail between his legs as he nearly ran the entire way home, breathing ragged and sharp and unforgiving with every step. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I just couldn’t make myself go,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shouyou finished, turning away bitterly, hands dropping into his lap. His breath was caught in his throat, and his eyes felt like they were on fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou, it’s been three </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kuroo sighed, but stopped when Shouyou looked back at them. Kenma’s eyes were narrowed yet soft with understanding, and Kuroo had a sad smile on his lips. They knew better than anyone how he felt, and yet, it still felt like there was an ocean of misunderstandings between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You know that I’ve always told you to take your time, but you need to start trying again. If not for us, then for yourself, because I can tell it’s killing you,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kenma finished by lowering his hands, gaze steady and unwavering even as Shouyou felt his own resolve faltering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Shouyou spoke this time, voice rushed and hushed with frustration seeping out. He couldn’t bear to look at the kindness pouring from his friends anymore, and the easy settled feeling from earlier disappeared. His back burned and his ears rang, and he wished it was easier. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know better than anyone that this is slowly chipping away at everything I have. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suga wasn’t just his therapist, he was one of Shouyou’s lifelong friends. The two had met at summer camp when he had just been approaching his eighth birthday, and had been tied since then. It had been difficult transitioning from friend to therapist territory, but once Shouyou started talking, he found himself unable to stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clinical white lines of Suga’s desk, the plushness of the couch Shouyou sank into every time he came to the office, and the ticking of the large pendulum helped cement the differences between friend and therapist. It was where he found himself now, knees drawn to his chest as he complained about the way his whole body had ached last week when it rained, forcing him to forgo physical exercise and spend the whole day in bed even though he should have been preparing for his new job. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou eventually dwindled into silence, just letting it sit in the air between the two of them. Suga looked back at him, still impossibly kind after all the bullshit he had forced the elder through for the past few years. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shouyou, how would you feel about attending the orchestra?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Suga was similar to Kuroo in that he spoke while he signed, but it helped him learn to read lips so he never minded. And then the words registered in Shouyou’s head, and he sat up with wide eyes. </span>
</p><p><span>A pair of tickets appeared on the desk, and his eyes only widened. The</span><em><span> Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra, </span></em><span>dated for two months from now,</span> <span>glared up at him from the desk, glinting in the bright office lights. Shouyou stared at them, before changing the focus of his stare to Suga, who had sat back with a smug smile. His chest felt tight, and his eyes hurt from pushing back tears that had sprang to life. He hadn’t allowed himself to just </span><em><span>listen</span></em><span> in so long, using it as a punishment against himself. </span></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What—what are they playing?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shouyou couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to the tickets again, stomach flip flopping as he attempted to right his reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not sure, but something about a solo piece with a cel—” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou felt his ears ring as he pressed his eyes shut; the air twisted in his lungs, and he felt like he was choking. He could hear Suga waiting patiently for him, but the twisting of his stomach wouldn’t let him look up again. Strings meeting bow screamed in his mind, and he dug his fingers into his thighs to regain control. When he managed to look up, Suga had pushed the tickets closer to him, where they sat at the edge of the desk and mocked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Take them, and promise me you’ll try to go, Shouyou,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Suga didn’t look away until Shouyou made jerky movements and wrapped his shaking fingers around the tickets. He drew them to his chest, slipping it into his shirt pocket with a shaky exhale. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I—I’ll try,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shouyou stumbled through the sign, hands still trembling. Suga gave him a tiny, satisfied smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first time Shouyou really interacted with Atsumu outside of work was an early morning after he finished his third official day on the job. He hadn’t been keeping up with his morning runs, and the fidgety energy in his chest had built to the point he couldn’t ignore it anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffs of air fell from his lips as he lightly jogged down the stairs, which wound around the outside of the apartment complex. He had done a poor job of shoving his hair behind a headband, so tufts kept slipping past and flying in the wind. His hearing aids were turned up, and he fought the urge to mess with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind slapped his face as he came to a standstill outside the apartment; the sky shimmered in the shades of 5 am, black and blue mingling amongst the bright white of the few stars that could still be seen. He cocked his head at the familiar figure that was sitting by the bench a few paces away, intently typing away at his phone. The shock of blonde hair hadn’t noticed Shouyou yet, so he patiently walked over with a teasing grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-shouyou-kun!” A surprised yelp escaped Atsumu’s lips as the two finally made eye contact; Shouyou had purposely allowed his feet to enter the setter’s field of vision, grin evolving into laughter at the comical widening of the other’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out for a run, Atsumu-san?” Shouyou asked, signing slowly as he spoke. The team had insisted that Shouyou sign while speaking so they could begin to learn through exposure as well. It warmed his heart, but he had played it off cooly when they first asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! I always run around this time,” Atsumu replied, stumbling through the sign for </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘yes,’ ‘run,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘time.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>His eyes were narrowed in concentration, the typically confident exterior replaced with shakiness in the face of something unknown. Shouyou grinned, eyes softening at the obvious effort he had been putting in; it had only been a few days, and he had picked up more than others he had known for longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to run together?” Shouyou blurted out, spurred on by the warmth spreading through his chest, and the thought that running with someone might be more enjoyable than running alone. It was worth it, to see the surprised, but pleased smile spread across Atsumu’s face, teeth shining in the morning light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today was a rare day off for the players, which meant Shouyou had even more things to do. Most of his day had been spent putting out fires with their partnership with Nike for the next game, and arranging meetings. He had been dismissed around six, and had collapsed into his couch the instant he got home. The group chat had been buzzing all day due to the restless, bored players, and he hadn’t been able to check them at all. One glance made him smile in excitement, and he swiped up to reply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>miya atsumu </b>
</p><p>
  <span>dinner at my place @ 8 shit heads, ‘samu sent onigiri </span>
</p><p>
  <span>be there or die </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>sakusa kiyoomi</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I think i would prefer death</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>inunaki shion</b>
</p><p>
  <span>dont worry, ill drag him there</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>bokuto koutarou</b>
</p><p>
  <span>HELL YEAHHHH </span>
</p><p>
  <span>ill bring the drinks </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>me</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I can bring snacks !! ꒰´꒳`∗꒱</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>miya atsumu </b>
</p><p>
  <span>literally in love with u babes ٩꒰ ˘ ³˘꒱۶~♡</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>me </b>
</p><p>
  <span>literally me too but go off ◟꒰∗⌵̈꒱◞✩◟꒰⌔̈∗꒱◞</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou snorted at the selfie Atsumu replied with, the picture filled with sparkles surrounding the player and his bright grin, paired with a peace sign. He was posing in front of a huge stack of onigiri, and Shouyou felt his cheeks flush at how the angle revealed a well built chest and shoulders. He shut the phone off and threw it face down on his couch, covering his flaming face with his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first week on the job had been chaotic so far; he had discovered that Atsumu and Bokuto were on opposite sides of him, each respectively four apartments away on each side. Sakusa had somehow escaped this predicament by having his apartment at the very end of the hall, which in the end didn’t really stop him from getting roped into whatever nonsense the other two cooked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou had fallen into a routine of joining Atsumu (and sometimes Bokuto, depending on when everyone woke up) for a morning run after that first time they met by chance. It centered him, and allowed him to continue his routine from before, but with a friend by his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a simple thing, slowly turning into friendship, and Shouyou felt lighter than he ever had. Bokuto and him had become fast friends too, finding common ground through Kuroo and their love of idiotic schemes. Sakusa had been dragged into their conversations enough times that he could confidently call the elder a friend and wouldn’t immediately receive a chilly glare. Shouyou was slowly warming up to the rest of the team, and found himself reaching out to players like Shuugo for life advice (he was, quite possibly, the only functional adult at thirty with a wife and kid), or Thomas, who he discovered had a green thumb and enthusiastically helped Shouyou fill up his bland apartment with plants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found himself beginning the day with genuine smiles, stretching his body along with the team, sharing jokes with the coach, and looking forward to whatever chaos would follow. Shouyou had taken a step back into living again, and it finally felt like he was truly alive, instead of just existing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the first pieces that Shouyou had properly learned and played till he could play it in his sleep had been the New World Symphony. It was a slow, calming peace that he had perfected mainly for his sister, who insisted on hearing him play it before she slept, even as he advanced to far more complex pieces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The agonizingly slow draw of the bow on string held a chunk of estate in his mind, even after almost fifteen years passed since he learned it. Shouyou remembered the feeling of the bow in his hand and the wood thrumming underneath the other after his sister applauded as loudly as her tiny hands could in the lonesome of their house after school. He remembered the flush in his cheeks when his parents had praised him, buying him a new book filled front to back with compositions as a prize. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou could remember it all, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember what the bow gliding across string sounded like anymore. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. second movement — allegro molto</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>shouyou and atsumu talk a lot. we learn more about his past.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for vague descriptions of a car crash at the end: begins with "Shouyou's ears..." and ends with "Shouyou woke.." </p><p>sign is in italics, enjoy !!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shouyou usually woke to silence. His hearing aids forgotten on his nightstand, and not a single soul in his apartment to make noise other than himself. The only thing that grounded him was the incessant vibrations of his alarm, which buzzed and buzzed till it was all he could think about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he woke to hushed murmurs and the rumble of an engine, he surged forward with two realizations: </span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>He had fallen asleep with his hearing aids in </span></li>
<li><span>He was definitely not in his apartment. </span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>A glance around abruptly reminded Shouyou where he was; they were on their way to a training camp with some other teams the Jackals were friendly with; the chaotic morning rushed back into his memory, barely holding back a chuckle as he sleepily took everyone in.</span>
</p><p> <span>Atsumu was still passed out next to him, the side of his head pressed so hard into the window that it was bound to leave marks. Bokuto had taken up the two seats behind them, legs sprawled out as he slept with loud, shaky snores. Sakusa sat to the right and in front, eyes glued shut and utterly still even with the movements of the bus. Shuugo was still awake, shoulders drooping as he murmured through a conversation with one of the coaches towards the front, and if he squinted his eyes, Shouyou could spot a sleeping Barnes to their left. </span></p><p>
  <span>Shouyou slowly curled out and up, stretching towards the roof as his back twisted and popped its way back into normalcy. He arched his back, reaching down to his toes before finally sitting back with a sigh. Atsumu was mumbling something or the other about ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>samu and his damn rice</span>
  </em>
  <span>,’ next to him, and he couldn’t help the smile that appeared in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile turned into a giggle when Atsumu broke out of his sleepy stupor with a halted, angry shout, flying forward only to smack his head into the seat in front of him. The giggle broke into full out laughter when the other simply groaned in pain, face scrunched up as he slumped back into his seat, hand holding his injured head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop laughing, ya sadistic lil’ demon,” Atsumu whined, blindly shoving at Shouyou with his free hand. This only made him laugh harder, wheezing when Atsumu shot him the most dramatic, offended look, eyes comically wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-your face,” Shouyou managed to say, taking gasping breaths as he finally calmed down enough to speak through the laughter. Atsumu still looked like Shouyou had danced around on his grave and ended it by pissing all over it, slumped over like he had been shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have you know my face is of the highest caliber,” Atsumu sniffed, pairing his words with clumsy signing—which had honestly improved in leaps and bounds, especially as the two spent more time together. Shouyou replied with a sign that was universally understood: fingers shaped into an ‘L’ draped across his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take that back!” Atsumu’s sharp jab to his ribs caused Shouyou to shriek in surprise, followed by an equally sharp jab back to the setter. A similar (but significantly higher pitched) shriek came in response, and it was a surprise that they hadn’t woken up the whole bus by now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take it back when you stop being a loser,” Shouyou retorted, pretending to think for a second before a shit eating grin spread across his lips, “Oh. Wait. That’s never going to happen!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time his high pitched giggles from the rapid onslaught of tickling on the sides of his ribs were loud enough to wake Sakusa, who turned around to frostily glare at the two of them. It didn’t help matters when Bokuto almost rose from the dead with a yell, hair flying everywhere and eyes wild. He opened his mouth, ready to join Shouyou and Atsumu in whatever the hell they had been doing, when he paused.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>about it, you idiots. Shut up, talk quietly, go back to sleep, do anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> what your tiny monkey brain is telling you to do,” Sakusa hissed, fixing one last steel-filled glare at them before turning back around, flipping his eye mask down in one easy motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(The part of his brain that noticed how Sakusa had immediately lifted his hands to sign as he spoke warmed his heart, spreading tingly feelings down his body). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou stifled a laugh at the way Bokuto immediately dropped back to sleep, disappearing from sight. He looked over at Atsumu, who had covered his laugh with a hand, eyes dancing with amusement as they made eye contact. They collapsed into silent giggles when they saw the mirth mirrored in each other’s eyes, shoulders to knees pressed together as they curled into each other to hide their laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they managed to calm down, Shouyou found himself subtly watching Atsumu, who had slid down in his seat so their shoulders were lined up, lips curled up as he typed away on his phone. The blonde curls of his hair were messier than usual, flying away from his head in rebellion from their typical uniform appearance. The setter’s cheeks were flushed from their previous laughter, and Shouyou wondered what it would be like to make him blush for other reasons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know, I realized that we never asked,” Atsumu started, snapping Shouyou out of his sneaky watching; instead, he gave his full attention to the blonde, eyebrows raised slightly to show that he was listening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are ya liking the job? You like yer’ apartment ‘n stuff?” Atsumu’s accent was deepened by the obvious exhaustion in his voice; they had set out before the sun, and still had a few hours till they reached the dorms, and it showed in how the sleepy ambience of the bus lingered everywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I—I love it,” Shouyou admitted quietly, gaze dropping to his loosely clasped hands. It was true. He hadn’t really found a group of people that enjoyed his presence as much as he enjoyed theirs since his accident, and it almost felt like he had been drowning in broad daylight before this. His life had become a maze, stumbling around in the dark in the hopes of finding something to return him to before. Things were changing—albeit slowly—but he was still moving forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good, that’s real good,” Atsumu mumbled when it became clear that Shouyou wasn’t going to say anything else, but the soft smile he received made it apparent that the player didn’t mind his lack of social skills. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s,” Shouyou began and paused, tongue flat in his mouth as he tried to gather words that could explain how he felt about his place with them without giving away too much. He could feel Atsumu watching him patiently, if the feather light touch of fingers wrapping around his wrist told him anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It feels like listening to your favorite song for the first time,” Shouyou whispered, voice hoarse with the words of a secret that was only identifiable as one to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You never really forget your first solo performance. Whether it be for a crowd no bigger than your immediate family and friends, or an entire school blurring till they turned into unrecognizable faces, the first solo was something held in reverie, something you remembered till your very last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found himself thinking about his first solo more often than not these days, in the rare occasion his mind dared to turn to his career before this. The elation of finally receiving a spotlight just for yourself. The fear that choked his grip around his bow, the horror that something would go wrong as the pads of his fingers pressed down on string. The satisfaction when every note was hit correctly, the pride when he finished the piece without a stumble. The joy when flowers were pressed into his hands by numerous friendly hands, the blinding smile no one could remove for days after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The breathless terror that hounded these memories now, the bitter nostalgia as he stared at the instrument that had once brought such joy only to be used as something he held at arm’s lengths so he would always remember what he had done. He could barely understand what it had felt like to feel so alive, to feel so content in just existing with the music. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The broken mirror sat in the corner of his bedroom as a reminder, sharp shards glinting with every new beginning to a day, and quieting only with its ending. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clock told him it was well past three in the morning by the time he stumbled into his apartment; work had kept them all late tonight, slaving away at the main office. They had been polishing up contract renewals for the players, while also working through negotiations for any new players they might take on after tryouts. It had dragged on as peaceful discussions devolved into full on arguments over what the new terms should be, if they should match the pay of other teams or draw up new numbers, and as mentioned at some point, ‘should we give Bokuto-san an undercut like Atsumu-san’s?’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Shouyou had voted a hard no for that; the undercut was Atsumu’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> and a small part of him admitted that it was only really attractive to him </span>
  <em>
    <span>because </span>
  </em>
  <span>Atsumu was the one with it and no one else). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou had stubbornly ignored his phone all day; he knew it was bound to have blown up at this point, if not by texts from Kuroo (who truly did not understand the meaning of refraining, because even when Kenma’s texts eventually petered off, his did not), then undoubtedly from the team, who texted like bored teenagers at their best, and like needy toddlers on a daily basis. </span>
</p><p><span>But he was surprised to see a small number of notifications, and only a few of them</span> <span>from the team chat. Had they made a new one? Had all of the players suddenly died overnight, thus preventing them from texting? Shouyou opened the chat with hesitation, thumb lingering over it before finally pressing down. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <b>atsumu </b>
</p><p>
  <span>hello fellow dumbasses </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>kiyoomi</b>
</p><p>
  <span>do not lump me in with you lot</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>atsumu </b>
</p><p>
  <span>… anyways</span>
</p><p>
  <span>as i mentioned earlier, pls refrain from texting in here today so we don’t drive our  tiny little manager crazy </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>meian</b>
</p><p>
  <span>can’t believe he has to deal with contract season so soon</span>
</p><p>
  <span>good luck kid</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>atsumu </b>
</p><p>
  <span>good luck shouyou !! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>koutarou </b>
</p><p>
  <span>GOOD LUCK MY SON !! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>kiyoomi </b>
</p><p>
  <span>tch </span>
</p><p>
  <span>good luck. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou couldn’t help the aching grin on his face as he read through the other member’s good luck messages, eyes watering at the sudden tornado of warmth and love that swept through him. His heart caught in his throat as he brought the phone closer to him to type out a message, knowing that they would only see it once he was fast asleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>me </b>
</p><p>
  <span>thank u ily all (´∀｀)♡</span>
</p><p>
  <span>but esp tsumu bc hes a king for remembering</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou fought to keep the silly grin off his face but lost the battle easily when he clicked away to see his home screen; a picture of him settled in between Atsumu and Sakusa with Bokuto wrapping their arms around all three of them from behind lit up his room, emitting joy even from the picture. It had been taken a few days ago after the team had beat a difficult opponent, which they had followed up by throwing an impromptu celebration in the captain’s hotel room. The exhausted happiness had permeated the room, and it had never felt easier to just exist in the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vibrations of his phone startled him out of his thoughts, and his eyes widened at the image flashing on his screen: a selfie of Atsumu posing with a victorious peace sign in front of a sleeping Shouyou after a particularly grueling contract deal. Shouyou tilted his head in confusion: why was Atsumu calling him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou took a second to shove his hearing aids back in, flipping the volume to the max before hovering his thumb over the screen. He answered after a beat too long, an easy smile appearing when the image of Atsumu swaddled by a purple hoodie blinked onto his screen. The other was clearly exhausted, lips trembling to fight back a yawn as the two just stared at each other for a few seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you still awake Atsumu-san?” Shouyou finally mumbled, pitching his voice high enough that he could be heard. He pushed down the ‘aw’ building in his throat at Atsumu’s ruffled hair and pink lips swollen with sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanted to see how our little manager felt after his first taste of contract season,” Atsumu replied back in an equal mumble, eyes curling up into a weak imitation of his energetic smiles when they were both properly awake. Shouyou ignored the fluttering in his chest at the sleepy admission, breath catching as he prepared a response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not little,” Shouyou protested weakly, but continued before they could have this argument again, “and they were terrible. I’ve never hated pieces of paper more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou felt satisfaction rumble through him at the snort Atsumu released, eyes sharpening in amusement for a moment before losing it to a wide yawn. It was Friday, which meant the players didn’t have morning practice tomorrow due to contract season, but it didn’t mean that Atsumu was used to being up right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you know what’s even worse?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Atsumu basically grunted at this point, fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. Shouyou rolled his eyes, but truly, he felt the same. With every second he melted deeper into his sheets, cheeks pressed into the pillow practically becoming one with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Having to deal with an angry coach and team if their star setter falls asleep at afternoon practice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awww, you think I’m a star?” Atsumu crooned, voice dripping with honey as his eyes momentarily lit up in joy. Shouyou giggled in response, eyes peeking out from the tufts of hair that were beginning to cover them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course that’s what you picked up from that,” Shouyou teased, but it fell flat due to the general air of sleepiness in between them. His eyes fluttered shut, catching glimpses of the tiny smile that seemed fixed on Atsumu’s lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep little manager, god knows we both need it,” Came the rough whisper, and with one encouragement, Shouyou’s eyes slid shut and he promptly fell into a deep sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Shouyou woke up eight hours later to find a black screen, he assumed that Atsumu had ended the call after he fell asleep. A quick check of his facetime logs told him otherwise; the blush burned his cheeks as he scanned the time slotted next to their call: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>7 hours and 13 minutes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His first teacher was strict, yet kind. Unrelenting, yet flexible. Difficult to please, but equally as difficult to disappoint. She pushed him to not just love his instrument, but to work for it, to build himself up to be deserving of the music he could create with the help of his partner, his instrument. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was only eight when he met her, and she was really only his teacher for a little under two years; at most, he could remember glimpses of her calloused hands and curled crow’s feet every time she smiled at his progress, but he wouldn’t forget the sense of magic and awe she imbued in him with every lesson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first composition she wrote for him sat locked in the bottom drawer of a dresser he never opened, notes blurred and greyed to the point of being ineligible, but he would never throw it out. Because even if he forgot the sounds he once created, he would never, </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>forget where it all began, and the life he had once pledged himself to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how ‘samu does this all the time,” Came Atsumu’s whine from the kitchen; Shouyou was drying his hair from his shower, drowning in a large hoodie and rolled up sweatpants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two were holed up in the air bnb the team had rented for a set of practice matches in Tokyo, of which they had finished the last of last night. The rest of the team had decided to go cause chaos around the rest of the city, but Shouyou had been exhausted from a long night of planning and conversing with the coaches and managers. He had been surprised to see a dreary Atsumu lounging on the couch, wrapped in blankets and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose; apparently, he had slept through everyone’s departure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you can figure out how to make some onigiri, ‘tsumu,” Shouyou drawled, leaving his room to watch Atsumu struggle with the balls of rice laid out on the kitchen counter. His face was screwed up in concentration, gloved hands clamping and unclamping around the balls. Shouyou chuckled at the utter misery that appeared when the onigiri fell apart again, which made the setter look up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure you’re fine staying with me here today? There’s still a car left,” Atsumu pointed out, gesturing towards the key that sat on the dining table. Shouyou stilled, inhaling before quickly exhaling and looking away from the keys. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No—I—I’m fine. Not a big fan of cars,” Shouyou mumbled the last part, but by the odd look Atsumu gave him he knew it had been loud enough to be heard. He ignored the look in favor of climbing onto the counter stools, resting his chin on his crossed arms to watch Atsumu cook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoying the view?” Atsumu quipped, teasing grin on his face when he glanced up to make eye contact. Shouyou poked his tongue out in response, giggling at the deadpan look he received. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like the view better if he could finish making our lunch,” Shouyou said through his laughter, leaning forward to swipe one of the misshapen rice balls and plopping it in his mouth before Atsumu could say a thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! That one wasn’t good, Shouyou-kun—spit it out! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Spit it out!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Atsumu even signed in frustration, but the peals of laughter as he yelled only edged Shouyou on to take another rice ball. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lighting in the kitchen washed Atsumu in shades of evening oranges and reds, bleeding into the blonde of his hair till it looked like flames resting against his head. The wide smile on his face was lit up under the sun, teeth gleaming as laughter spilled from his lips. Shouyou couldn’t help the heat simmering in his stomach as he watched Atsumu laugh, fiddling with his aids to stop himself from doing something stupid, like leaning over and running his hands through the other’s hair to see if it would burn him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If you made it, then I think it’s good,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shouyou smiled softly, signing slower than normal so Atsumu could understand the whole sentence. He waited for the translation to sink in, a sneaky smile creeping over his lips when he received a startled squeak for his efforts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu’s face was </span>
  <em>
    <span>on fire, </span>
  </em>
  <span>a bright red spread across his cheeks till it reached his neck. He had dropped the clump of rice in his hands, a loud ‘plop’ being the only indication that it dropped on the counter. Shouyou couldn’t help the shriek of laughter when the setter dropped his head into the crook of his elbows, arms reaching up to wrap themselves around his head and shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Atsumu finally looked up, it was with a bashful smile and flushed cheeks. Shouyou helped himself to another terrible rice ball, grinning as he swallowed. The laughter Atsumu replied with sounded like the first successful meeting of bow and string, and the resounding harmony it had the potential to create. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s mother had given him his sign name, only a few months after his accident. It was four fingers up, palm faced inwards, which was waved in small motion from elbow to mid-chest. The fingers combined a character from ‘Shouyou’, and asl for musician into one sign that his mother had given for his name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou had cried when she had explained the sign for his name that morning, desperate jerky sobs as he shook in her arms, unable to help himself from repeating the sign over and over again that day. The tiny addition from the sign for </span>
  <em>
    <span>musician </span>
  </em>
  <span>made his heart ache and blister every time he signed it to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held the name his mother had gifted him close to his heart, rarely using it outside of his inner circles; but he would never let himself misunderstand what his mother had attempted to tell him with her novice signing. She had etched a declaration into his soul with that name, with the title </span>
  <em>
    <span>musician </span>
  </em>
  <span>now attached to more than just his actions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was that sign you used earlier?” Atsumu asked one morning, head tilted in question. They were sitting in the park outside the apartment, winding down from the exhausting run turned race through the trails in the area. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sign you used when you called my name,” Atsumu clarified at the raised eyebrows Shouyou replied with, and rightfully so—the amount of sign he used was way too much for a vague question like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! That’s your sign name,” Shouyou smiled weakly, hoping it covered up the sudden pit in his stomach. He hadn’t really been thinking when he had used the sloppily created sign name for Atsumu, giving a sideways thumbs up for a character in his name, followed by a sudden jerk up from waist to mid chest, and ending with his knuckles resting on his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a poor imitation of ‘to exist,’ or to be alive. Shouyou had been thinking about what sign name to give Atsumu for a few days now, playing over what the other meant to him, and how he made him feel. Shouyou had smiled in satisfaction when he finally found the right word—he felt, simply put, </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive </span>
  </em>
  <span>when he was with Atsumu, and thus, his sign name was born. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s a sign name?” Atsumu asked, head still quite not upright as his fingers fiddled to mimic the sign Shouyou had quickly used again after the first question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Typically, you finger spell people’s names, but sometimes you can give people you’re close to a sign that represents what they mean to you,” Shouyou explained patiently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, then what does mine mean, Shouyou-kun?” Atsumu asked, leaning forward with an inquisitive look. His hair was pushed back by a tiny hairband, the golden locks nearly bursting out of the thin band that held them back. Shouyou felt the sudden urge to pluck the hairband away and let his hair tumble everywhere, so he’d have an excuse to run his hands through them. Instead, he twisted his fingers into the folds of his shirt and looked away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, this,” Shouyou paused to hold up the sideways thumbs up, “comes from a character in your name, and this,” he paused again to slowly finish the rest of the movement with a wry grin, “you’ll just have to figure that out on your own, won’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The giggles that spilled out of him were caught up in a wave of protests from Atsumu, and even when he felt the other lightly push him with a pout, he felt elation rise in his chest. A layer of peace settled around his shoulders like a cloak as he sat there with Atsumu, laughter filling the beginning of their day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s ears were bleeding, his arms burnt from exertion, and he could barely separate the feeling of his back slamming to the pavement from the numbing pain spreading through his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The raging orange of the flames blurred his eyes, black smoke entering his airway without a pause as he trembled from head to toe, attempting to curl in on himself. The shriek of screeching metal sounded like it was miles away, even though he could see the hunks of his car that remained hitting the ground with sparks that flew a little too close for comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was screaming, broken screams falling from their lips like a mantra, only broken by shrieking cries. Someone was sobbing for help, hoping it reached the ears of the sirens that were too far, too far to help them on time, too late to stop this from happening in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was clawing against the seatbelt, hands bloody and burnt, someone was slamming their shoulder into the fragmented glass of the window to let air in, to let themselves out. Someone couldn’t stop—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shouyou </span>
  </em>
  <span>couldn’t stop screaming, voice well past hoarse at this point. He pressed his forehead to the glass, ragged breathing filling the small amount of space he existed in, and he couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to get out, he needed to stay alive, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he needed to get out of here, he needed to hold onto his life, he needed, he needed, he needed</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou woke with a gasp, and a racing heart to match it. His phone buzzed with plans, and he couldn’t help the sense of foreboding that spread through his body. He felt chills run down his limbs, while his ears burnt, and he felt sick to his stomach with every sensation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glaring lights of Osaka in the hours late enough but not early enough to call morning filled his vision, and if his watering eyes turned into broken sobs, then the lights were the only one privy to it. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi hi hi !!! kind of a weird place to end, but it'll make sense next chapter ;D </p><p>pls come bother me on twt @ boochas, or on tumblr @ nikchai !!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Third Movement — adagio</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>shouyou meets a face from his past. difficult conversations follow.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>my doc is 45 pages now and just whewww </p><p>tw for vague descriptions of a car accident at "I drove,"... </p><p>enjoy the chapter !!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The bar was filled to the brim, a general air of happiness and drunk festivities filling the area as the team and assorted coaches/managers shuffled in. Everyone was smiling and chatting cheerfully, still riding the high of multiple victories; even through the hum of his aids, it still felt loud to him, vibrating from his head to feet. Shouyou found himself even agreeing to the outing, swept up in Atsumu and Bokuto’s loud cheers as they dragged him by his wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want a beer?” Atsumu’s voice was already slurring from the two shots Shouyou had watched him and Bokuto slam down the instant they arrived. When the question registered, he immediately shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t drink,” He explained at the confused haze in Atsumu’s eyes, nursing the glass of water closer to his chest. This had the unintended side effect of drawing their neighbors’ attentions, eyes wide and perplexed at his response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t drink?” Bokuto’s nose was wrinkled in concentration, cheeks alight from the healthy rush of alcohol. “At all?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how do you survive late nights with the coaches and managers?” Barnes was the one to question him this time, eyes widening with surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t drink even then,” Coach Foster interrupts from the other end of the table, snorting before continuing, “he just laughs in our faces when we’re all hungover the next day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou flushed at the roar of laughter that went around the table, coughing when Bokuto smacked him on the back in amusement just a little too hard. He continued to sip on his water, not quite used to having all this attention on him. Atsumu was still pressed up next to him, an arm swung around his shoulders that was just heavy enough to ground him into the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, we don’t really know much about you, Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu said, just loud enough to catch most of the player’s fleeting attention spans; he was slumped onto the table, head barely held up by his left hand to give him a way for them to make eye contact. Shouyou gulped, nerves settling into his fingers as he stared down at his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what was life like for you before this?” Inunaki was leaning forward, eyes just visible from besides Bokuto. He looked genuinely curious, but Shouyou still felt a pang of fear drop down his spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! It’s not like you were assigned assistant manager at birth,” Bokuto laughed at his own joke, beaming when Shouyou gave him a weak smile in return. The mood wasn’t serious, but he still felt trapped by their expecting gazes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, just college, you know how it goes,” Shouyou mumbled, attaching his lips to his drink in the hopes it would ward off the conversation. But luck was not on his side, as he caught Shuugo’s eyebrows furrowing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I heard the coach mention how skilled you were for only going to college for two years,” He pointed out, head tilted in confusion. It was an innocent enough observation, but the rising cacophony of his heart rate beating out of control vanquished any lies he had sitting on the tip of his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Shouyou replied dumbly, mind blanking as he fell under the scrutiny of a whole roster of professional players. The previously heartening presence of Atsumu pressed up against him felt nauseating now as he floundered for a response, mouth drying up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I did have an-,” Shouyou gulped down more water, before continuing, “-an obligation of sorts before this. Something that didn’t let me properly attend college till I was 19.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held his breath as he watched everyone from behind his lashes, deflating in relief when they seemed to buy it (or choose not to push it, because even the drunker players of the team could tell that something wasn’t quite right), the conversation slowly turning away from him. But a burning stare told him not </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> had taken his words at face value. He turned to see Atsumu raising his eyebrows, lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. But you look like there’s something really bothering you,” The words spilled out of Atsumu in a hushed rush, and it left Shouyou reeling. He took a deep breath, and another sip of his drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet, Atsumu-san,” He replied under his breath, maintaining eye contact as he continued, “but I have a feeling when I’m ready, you’ll be the first person I tell.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if the hesitant, yet genuinely pleased flush and smile he received in response made him desperately wish he could push his secrets past his lips, then that was only for him to know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The aftermath of the crash turned his life on its head. The first time he awoke to the blinding white of the hospital, all he could focus on were the ringing in his ears and the tremors in his hands. He could barely take a deep breath around the ventilator shoved onto his nose and mouth, and every blink took eons of effort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The multiple faces that visited him during the first blurry weeks of his stay were lost on him, and even if you held him at gun-point, he wouldn’t be able to list his visitors. When he finally regained any semblance of wakefulness, the first face he opened his eyes to was Kenma, who was peacefully sleeping on his right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Physical therapy was new, and something he had difficulty getting adjusted to on a daily basis. Being told he was slowly going completely deaf was something beyond that. He had clawed at his ears with gasping breaths after locking himself in the single bathroom in the room following the news, ignoring the faint knocking and calls for him from his doctor and nurses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every tremor brought the angry red lines of his accident back into focus, and he remembered the feeling of bile crawl up his throat. He couldn’t look at his hands without the taste of cheap beer sitting on his lips and the sounds of tires shrieking echoing in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t even hear the sounds of his nails scraping against his bandages in desperation, and that was what pushed him over the edge, broken cries filling the solitude of the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou looked at Atsumu one morning and realized he wanted to hold the other’s hand. And quite possibly kiss him a few times too. And then bring him back to his apartment and push the setter onto his bed before crawling onto him and—and, he really needed to stop this line of thinking before he turned into a steaming, blushing mess in front of all the players. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t anything in particular that spurred this on; it almost appeared in between moments, materializing into his mind. Shouyou and Atsumu had still engaged in their morning run, accompanying each other into practice. Maybe it had been when Atsumu had picked up Shouyou’s bag without prompting? Or maybe it had been when the other had curled a hand around Shouyou’s waist so he wouldn’t be swept away in the crowd of people boarding the train? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou bit the end of his pen in thought, eyes narrowed as he took in Atsumu’s figure from across the gym, where he was busy setting balls to Bokuto with an easy smirk playing on his lips. Maybe it wasn’t any of the aforementioned reasons in particular; rather, Shouyou thought after a few minutes of pondering, it was quite possibly an accumulation of everything that made Atsumu, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Atsumu. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>To help his brain clear up, Shouyou decided to flip over the schedule for the week and jot down a list titled: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Reasons I Want to Date Atsumu???? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>He’s really hot, duh </span></li>
<li><span>Makes bad jokes but they’re funny anyways (sometimes) </span></li>
<li><span>Learned sign for me, and has gotten really good (which kind of makes me want to cry, but we do not see it) </span></li>
<li><span>Always looks out for me (ex: flipped some dude off for yelling at me because I didn’t hear him, but we had to sprint away at full speed) </span></li>
<li><span>Listens to me, but hasn’t pushed </span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>Shouyou stared down at the list, smirking a little deviously to himself before scribbling a sixth reason: </span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>I’ll get a lifetime supply of onigiri from his brother </span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>“Whatcha writin’ there, Shou-kun?” An inquisitive voice broke into his thoughts, and Shouyou instinctively flipped the page back over, slamming it down on his binder with a loud smacking noise. He snapped his head over to see Atsumu’s wide eyes behind him, hands raised in a placating manner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—nothi—it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Shouyou hissed out the last part, hand automatically crumpling the paper in his hand before shoving it into his bag, heart racing. He grimaced at the bewildered look in Atsumu’s eyes, deepening into a scowl when the look evolved into surprised laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You writing a love letter, or somethin’?” Atsumu’s eyes were gleaming with amusement, and Shouyou felt his heart flutter at their proximity, paired with the tiny smile the setter had gifted him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut up, I am not,” Shouyou replied indignantly, rolling his eyes at the sharp bark of laughter he got in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Atsumu backed off with a grin, ruffling Shouyou’s hair before darting off with: “But I’ll find out eventually!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou squawked in shock, one hand reaching up to tug at his hair, where moments before Atsumu had settled his larger hand, fingers curled into the tufts of his hair. He flushed, briefly shutting his eyes as he let the warmth seep from the top of his head to his toes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps writing a love letter wasn’t too bad of an idea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The training camp was being held in their main gyms this year, which inevitably led to far too many practice matches drawn out through the nagging of players that acted more like children when together. Shouyou was particularly fond of the Adlers, a team filled with players that his own team were friends with already, and he found himself following their joy like a bee to pollen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the final day, where all of the teams present would engage in a mini tournament, the prize being allowed first dibs on the barbecue at the end of the night. Shouyou had rolled his eyes at their enthusiasm, but had crossed his fingers in hope for their victory, because managers and coaches were included as well. Aside from all that, it really was just a fancy way to market the teams to fans in the area before the season started up again, and solidify fan bases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou slumped lower in his seat, yanking the bill of his cap lower on his head. He didn’t do well with crowds, not after—well. He could feel Atsumu practically buzzing with energy next to him, chattering about something or the other with Bokuto while Sakusa interrupted with a scathing remark every once in a while from behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt like jumping out of his skin with every wave of people that swam into the gym, filling up the rows and rows of seats. Even if this was their gym and their turf, the Jackals weren’t given a place to sit on their own; they had taken seats in one of the top rows, high enough to give them a vantage point for all the games before theirs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou groaned at the barrage of noises when a point was scored, head thrumming from the echoing cheers. He rubbed at his eyes with exhaustion, tempted to toss his hearing aids into a trash can so he would never have to hear anything ever again. Especially not the obnoxiously loud mock heckling noises his team were making at the Adlers, who had just won their set. With his eyes closed, he missed the mischievous looks on Bokuto and Atsumu’s faces, before his hat was snatched right off his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Give that back, you idiots!” Shouyou snapped, jerking forward to make an attempt to grab his hat back. He rarely went out in public without covering his bright orange hair, especially not in a place with so many people packed into one place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nuh-uh, you’ll have to ask nicely to get this back,” Atsumu teased, tossing the hat to Sakusa who handed it off to Inunaki with a bored look on his face. Shouyou rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the easy grin on his face as the team lit up with teasing smiles, tossing the hat around at a higher speed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might just keep this—I look better in it anyways,” Barnes’ voice was amused as Shuugo settled the hat on his head, sitting back in his seat with a smug grin. Shouyou chuckled, slumping into Atsumu’s side with a huff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the heavens, I never thought I would meet you in person,” A joyous, clearly elderly voice interrupted their playing, and Shouyou didn’t even look over. He watched through cracked open eyes as the players turned to look at what he was assuming was an older fan of theirs, the eager-to-please smiles reserved for fans plastered to their faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hinata Shouyou, by my good graces, you haven’t changed a bit in three years!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s neck nearly snapped at the speed he turned around, eyes wide and body instantly stiffening when he made eye contact with the jovial man. He knew the fear must be pouring from his face and body language, from the way the joy slowly died out of the man’s face. He could feel the bewildered stares of the team on his back, but he ignored it to force out a shaky smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, an old fan, I’m assuming?” Shouyou grinded out, sitting up with tense muscles. He found one of his hands twisting into the fabric of Atsumu’s training jacket, grounding himself before he freaked himself out too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes! I simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>adored </span>
  </em>
  <span>your pieces, and the way your hair lit up every concert—oh, they were too good to miss. I do terribly miss the days you played in Tokyo; ask any oldie on the scene, they’ll say the same!” The man grinned, the light coming back in his eyes as he talked, Shouyou giving polite nods every once in a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to hear it,” Shouyou replied softly, the nerves coiling through his body loosening at the true admiration in the man’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how come you haven’t returned? We heard of the—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have my reasons,” Shouyou cut him off bluntly, voice tinged with dismissal as he continued, “and I thank you for your kind words.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man looked like he wanted to press, but stopped at the hard look Shouyou gave him, finally backing off to return to his own conversations. Shouyou sighed in relief, but knew he had a plethora of curious people sitting behind him. The ring of a whistle saved him, and he sighed, sliding until his head barely cleared his seat, even with the added height of his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jackals! To the lockers, your game starts soon,” One call from the coach prompted the players up, and Shouyou ignored the stares drilling holes into the side of his head to watch the empty court in front of him blankly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand curling around his shoulder snapped him out of it, and he looked over and up to see Atsumu leaned over next to him, a conflicted look in his eyes. His lips were parted, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t push it past his lips, and his eyebrows were gathered in worry. Shouyou felt himself tense, hoping the other wouldn’t push the issue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou,” Was all Atsumu managed to breathe out, eyes dark with questions and anxiety, and it took everything in him to shrug the touch away. Shouyou’s heart felt like it would break, and this gym was not the place to do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll talk to you later,” Shouyou finally muttered, shielding his eyes from receiving the brunt of Atsumu’s stare, glaring down at his arms and the edges of his scars peeking out from beneath the sleeves. He heard a murmured assent from Atsumu a few seconds later, before the presence moved away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou took a deep, shuddering inhale, fingers curled up and trembling with—the urge to run away from the conversation he would no doubt have to endure soon? The urge to fall into a deep sleep and forget everything about today? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The urge to pick up his instrument and finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>properly play again? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou exhaled and rested shaking fingers over his heart, head hung low as he remembered the steps he had taken recently:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shouyou cracked the door open, allowing his eyes to look into a room he hadn’t dared to enter since his move. Even through the small crack he could see the instrument sitting in the center, already beginning to collect dust from lack of movement. He swallowed, edging one foot into the room, before taking a quick breath and stepping in completely. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A chill slivered down his spine, and he choked on air, gulping quietly as he toed his way towards the instrument. When he was within arm’s reach of it he collapsed to the floor, knees unfeeling as they slammed to the wooden floor. His bare hands twitched, hovering over the smooth wood of his instrument, fingers spread out and red from anxious scratching. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The cello</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>his cello, had sat untouched for almost three years now, not a single sound falling from it. Shouyou shuddered, slowly pressing his hands onto the wood, even going as far as to pluck a few of the strings. He shook at the hopelessly deep sounds that erupted from the instrument, pausing to rest his head against the neck of the cello. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shouyou plucked the strings again, and this time, he couldn’t stop the tears that fell onto the cello, the pressure building in his eyes. They erupted into breathless sobs, every sound that he mutely heard, every vibration he felt shiver underneath his hands</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>it spurred more tears to rush down his cheeks. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He fell asleep in that position, curled around his cello protectively, cheeks pressed to the wood and fingers splayed across the strings. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vibrations from his phone broke Shouyou’s staring contest with his cello, eyes watering from the sudden break in concentration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>atsumu </b>
</p><p>
  <span>can i come over?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou paused, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He had sworn himself to not running away from this conversation, especially not from Atsumu; but he couldn’t help the way his heart nearly stopped at the innocent enough text. He saw the cello once more in the periphery of his eyes, exhaling quietly before replying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>me </b>
</p><p>
  <span>yeah </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s open,” Shouyou called out when the lights in his house flickered on and off to tell him that someone was ringing the bell. He waited patiently in the room, slumped next to his cello. The door to the room was wide open, so he knew Atsumu would make his way here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp inhale drew his attention to the doorway, and he smiled weakly at Atsumu, who had paused at the entrance, hair wild and cheeks flushed like he ran here (and knowing the setter, brash and open with his heart, he probably had). Shouyou patted the space in front of him lightly, smiling genuinely when the other plopped down with zero hesitation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence fell between them as Shouyou watched the other carefully, thinking of how to word this, or how to even start off explaining the mess that was his life. Atsumu returned his look, a small smile resting on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> cello?” Atsumu was the first to break it, his smile just a tad larger as his gaze turned to the instrument Shouyou had fondly wrapped his arm around, fingers still mindlessly running over the strings, not yet plucking them, but close enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Shouyou exhaled through the answer, chest feeling empty yet whole at the same time. “This has been my cello for years now. Practically my entire life.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You—” Atsumu started, looking up with furrowed brows and lips turned slightly down. Shouyou tightened his grip on the cello, looking away for a second before resuming eye contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been playing since I was five, just a little kid. My parents had signed me up for group classes in the neighborhood, along with some other kids; I fell in love with it, and then, I couldn’t stop playing it,” Shouyou explained, dragging adoring fingers down the sides of the cello, allowing a tiny smile to curl his lips up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My first solo performance was after my ninth birthday, and I performed Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1, and I was hooked after that. I think the local newspapers began to hail me as a prodigy after my third or fourth performance, and from there, I quickly rose through the ranks,” Shouyou paused at the awe (and understanding, horrified understand that he was no longer the prodigy he had once been) filling Atsumu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Atsumu paused, swallowed, and continued, “this was the, ah, how did you word it—</span>
  <em>
    <span>obligation</span>
  </em>
  <span>—you had before college?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Shouyou snorted lightly, “yes. I became the star of a small, local orchestra in Miyagi, but after a reporter from Tokyo found out about me, everything became chaotic very quickly. I had invitations pouring in from music academies and private teachers, and only a year later I ended up moving to Tokyo for classes and small performances.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou stopped again, flicking his hand over to the left; he watched with a little satisfaction as Atsumu realized that the countless trophies, medals, and certificates lining the shelves next to them were awards he had collected over the years. He also took a moment to gage what Atsumu was thinking, but all he could interpret was amazement lining the features of his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the time I was sixteen, I had been invited to join a larger orchestra—something with a larger presence, and I was also regularly going to high school again. And things were good for a while,” Shouyou broke off, gaze turning distant as he stared at the rows of awards, glinting in the evening glow. “They were real damn good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what happened?” Atsumu’s voice was shaky, and even he had quickly gathered how Shouyou’s mood had dropped with every word he uttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The accident,” Shouyou whispered, eyes shutting for a moment as he gathered himself. He choked back a gasp when he felt Atsumu shuffle closer, a hesitant arm wrapping around his shoulders. He tensed, then slowly relaxed into the embrace, eyes fluttering open to see Atsumu’s face close to his, lips pressed into a thin line and a storm raging in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was out with some orchestra friends,” Shouyou’s laugh was hollow, his thoughts turning back to that night. “I had drank two beers, and it was getting late for me, but no one else wanted to go home yet. We were broke freshman in college, and I knew I couldn’t afford a taxi home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu’s inhale sounded broken with realization, and his voice was shaking as he spoke: “You drove?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I drove,” Shouyou confirmed, nod weighed with years old bitterness. “I had a shitty little car, and I thought I was good enough for the ten minute drive home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou…” Atsumu trailed off, and he leaned more heavily into the warmth of Atsumu as he geared up for the next part. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t—good that is, for the drive. It was fine for the first few minutes, but then it got too dark, and there were too many cars and lights, and before I knew it, the wheel was spinning out of control and the world was flipping me around,” Shouyou gasped weakly, feeling tears drip down his cheeks. He shook when Atsumu tightened his hold on him, immensely thankful that the other gave him the time to collect himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have scars running down my ears and back from the accident, as well some that cover half of my arms,” Shouyou paused, peeling back his sleeves to show a glimpse of the dulled scars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A muffled hiss came from his right, before a hesitant hand reached out to gently rest on Shouyou’s forearm. He tensed, turning to look at Atsumu, who was watching him with a questioning quirk of his brows. Shouyou slowly relaxed and nodded, adjusting himself so Atsumu had easier access. He shivered when the tips of fingertips traced the curving, twisting lines of his scars, lighter than the touch of a feather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of the hardest parts was finding out I was slowly going deaf,” Shouyou continued once the touches faded into the background of his mind. “Even worse was when my mother brought in my cello, and my music didn’t feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>right.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t even look at my cello without feeling sick, without the ringing in my ears returning at max volume, the shaking in my hands to the point that I couldn’t do anything at all with them,” Shouyou was rambling now, words spilling from his lips faster than his thoughts could keep up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t played since then,” Shouyou whispered like it was a secret, voice heavy with self-admonition. He knew he was punishing himself, establishing this mental decree as a way to remind him of that night, of his stupid actions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu didn’t say anything for the longest time, and Shouyou breathed out a sigh of relief when the fingers on his scars turned into a strong hand curling around his torso. He felt tears prick at his eyes as the other pulled him into a proper hug, dwarfing Shouyou with his figure as he sunk into the embrace. His hands twisted into the shirt, pulling himself as close as possible to Atsumu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love to hear you play, when you’re ready,” Was all Atsumu said, voice small and rough, like he had been crying himself, but steady with conviction and belief. Shouyou felt himself break at the admission, and he sobbed loudly into Atsumu’s chest, no doubt staining the shirt with snot and tears.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou cried and cried and cried; he cried for himself at age eighteen, young enough to think he could never make a wrong decision only to learn a lesson through the most difficult means; he cried for the musician he had managed to lose his grasp on for the past three years, whose hand he had let go to forget his actions. And he cried for himself, twenty one years old and finally realizing he could find a way back to the dreams and aspirations of his eighteenth year. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>we are one chapter away from the end, woo hoo !!! hope the reveal of shouyou's past was satisfying :D !!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. fourth movement — repeat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>things come to a close, with a few new additions.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>last chapter !!! hinatas birthday is on the 21st, so uhhhh, early birthday present?? enjoy !!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shouyou found, in the end, falling in love with Atsumu was simple. It didn’t require any lists, it didn’t require much thinking, and it certainly didn’t require a love letter, even if he was tempted to write one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like taking a breath, and then another. He glanced over at Atsumu during a morning run and realized he loved him. It didn’t slam into him, or shock him; Shouyou was barely fazed and just kept running, the soundtrack of </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love him, I love him, I love him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>smacking a beat into his heart that lined up with his foot hitting concrete. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The real trouble arose when Shouyou wondered what to do with all of these feelings. He felt a searing fear snap around his heart at the thought of pouring his heart out to Atsumu, unsure he could do his own heart justice in confessing his feelings. Shouyou pondered making another list, but flushed in irritation when he couldn’t force himself to pick up a pencil and actually write anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Work turned into its own form of torture; no matter where he looked, Shouyou was surrounded by Atsumu, or things that reminded him of the setter. It almost felt like Atsumu was everywhere now, flashes of blonde hair and bright, excited eyes following him. He felt his stomach work its way through an almost impressive gymnastics routine every time Atsumu shot him his usual playful grin during work, inevitably followed by the other coming over for brief conversation during breaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou didn’t shy away from the conversations either—how could he? It hurt more to pretend to ignore Atsumu in the hopes of hiding his burgeoning feelings; he’d rather suffer through pretending he was weak to the heat than turn Atsumu away. His heart beat the study thrum of Elgar’s Cello Concerto, and he wondered, not for the first or last time, if this was yet another thing that could be taken away from him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I went to the orchestra today,” Shouyou murmured into the phone, staring down at his hands. His breath came out in small puffs outside the concert hall, and he wondered if he would go again, if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>go again. He had told Suga his plans, and the other had simply sent links to the orchestra’s scheduled performances for the next few months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An answering hum warbled out of the phone, and Shouyou waited for the other to speak. “And? How did it feel?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amazing,” Shouyou breathed out, hand clenched around his phone so tight he thought it would snap with a little more pressure. He leaned against the railing, uncaring that his one clean suit was undoubtedly getting crumpled and dirty. His hair had come loose of the hair spray from his hands running through it out of nerves, but he couldn’t resist the urge to fiddle with it as he thought back to the performances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been more than amazing. The concert had shot him full of memories, memories of what he had been missing for three years. Shouyou had purposely sat in the back, allowing himself ample room to fold over and cry quietly. The music wasn’t the same—it never would be—but it had been there, a diluted version filling his ears while it vibrated with its whole force at his feet. With every hot tear that dripped down his cheeks, his smile grew bigger, and Shouyou couldn’t help the wet laugh he released. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take you myself next time,” Atsumu’s voice was barely there, even with the volume maxed out and aids turned up. Shouyou could barely hold back the cheer building behind his lips, clearing his throat pathetically instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a date?” Shouyou attempted to joke, but his voice came out scratchy and pathetically honest, wobbling in the cold night air. His breath caught at the pause from the other end, dragging on too long for it to be anything but serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a date,” Came the hushed response, Atsumu’s voice steadily ringing out of the phone. Shouyou’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and he stared at his phone dumbly for a few seconds, unsure how to reply at the sudden shift into reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou meant to brush it off, he meant to jokingly reply ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>sure, sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>,’ and then never follow through, he meant to pretend this conversation never happened, but instead what spilled past his lips was: “Wanna get dinner instead?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he couldn’t tell you who was more surprised when a quick, rushed “Yes!” burst through the phone—Shouyou, or Atsumu. A beep, and then he was staring at a dark phone screen; Atsumu had hung up. Or maybe Shouyou had in a fit of panic, but after the matter, he really didn’t know what had happened in those few seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A minute passed, and his phone buzzed again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>tsumu </b>
</p><p>
  <span>ill pick u up tmrw at 8 </span>
</p><p>
  <span>ramen work w u? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s face burst into flames, cheeks flushed a dark red as he hastily typed out a ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>yes ofc</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’ Once that was done and typed, he shoved his face into his hands, whimpering as he crumpled into the railing. His heart rate accelerated, and he wondered if this is how he would die: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here Lies Hinata Shouyou, Taken from us at a young age due to blushing too much. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ramen place was practically empty by the time they were finishing up their meals, drinks already drained of their worth and pushed to the edge of the booth. Shouyou’s stomach was full, heart bursting, and he couldn’t stop staring at Atsumu, who was still shoveling ramen down his throat while stopping to shoot him sly looks every once in a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had talked about everything, ranging from the next games the Jackals had scheduled, what pranks they should play on the team during the upcoming training camp to what Shouyou’s favorite pieces had been and how Atsumu had started playing volleyball because of his brother, Osamu. He also learned that Atsumu loved fatty tuna to death, was furious at his brother for not going pro but (eventually) got over it, loved to hide the Coach’s glasses before he got caught one day, and that he had attempted to learn the violin when he was younger and had failed miserably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could never make ma fingers move right, y’know?” Atsumu complained, wiggling his right hand’s fingers for emphasis, making jerky motions with them, while the other hand signed his words. Shouyou snorted, raising his hand to mimic the other but making the correct movements for pressing down on the strings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sign didn’t escape his attention though, and he let out a small smile at the actions. Sign had become an unnoticed part of their conversations, slipping in without notice. Shouyou had felt a burst of gratefulness fill his chest, especially as his ears began to fail him more and more. Atsumu integrated sign into every conversation naturally, and it gave him the excuse to stop wearing his aids as much when he was around the setter (which, if he thought about it, was a large chunk of his time these days). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ever play the violin? I know the, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cello</span>
  </em>
  <span>—right?” Atsumu paused, grinning brightly when Shouyou coughed around his giggle and nodded in confirmation when Atsumu signed the word for the instrument. “The lot of ‘em are in the same family right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Shouyou confirmed, before going on, “I did play the violin for a while, but I knew the cello was the one for me the first time I got my hands on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shouyou smiled wistfully, staring down at the oil slicks sticking to the inside of his bowl with an unfocused gaze. He had been making progress with his cello, even laying bow to string a few days ago, but he couldn’t actually play any of his old favorites without choking up. He could feel Atsumu watching him carefully, and he looked up to make eye contact, shaking himself out of his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu’s head was slightly tilted, eyes sparkling with thought; but his lips were settled into a reassuring smile, and Shouyou couldn’t help but return it. His heart felt lighter every time he talked about his music with Atsumu, as he shared pieces of his soul with the first person to gently hold them and tell him ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s ok. Take your time. Don't push yourself. You don’t have to change.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> At least, that’s what it felt like Atsumu was saying, with his patient smiles and harmless questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how to play a piece,” Atsumu blurted out, and Shouyou almost laughed at the way his face immediately colored after. But he stifled the laughter, pushing it down to instead prompt the setter with a small nudge to his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou couldn’t hide the ripple of shock when Atsumu grabbed his hand before he could pull away, intertwining their hands across the table. He mock pouted when the other gave him a playful smirk through his red cheeks; his pout rapidly turned into a steaming mess of flushed cheeks and a blank mind when Atsumu brought their linked hands up, pressing his lips into the back of Shouyou’s hand with a smug grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-atsumu!” Shouyou stuttered, forgetting the suffix in his haste. Their hands had been returned to the table, but he could feel the phantom feeling of Atsumu’s lips lingering on his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou,” Atsumu purred—</span>
  <em>
    <span>purred, honestly</span>
  </em>
  <span>—with a cat-like smirk, eyes lit up in joy at the tea-pot sounds coming out of Shouyou. He wouldn’t be surprised if bouts of steam were pouring out of his ears with how hot he felt, blush spreading down his neck and no doubt curling into his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-what piece do you know h-how to play?” Shouyou’s question had been innocent, but he watched with barely concealed amusement as a switch flipped off in Atsumu, turning him back into a blushing mess, the confident flirt washed away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, well—” Atsumu paused, scratching his red cheek with his free hand, “-a friend of Osamu’s works at a music store and he ya know—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou waited when Atsumu paused again, cheeks becoming even redder if that was possible. He almost wanted to laugh at how cute the setter was acting right now, but he held it back because he didn’t want to scare off wherever Atsumu was going with this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He, ah, damn it, hehasacellosoItaughtmyselfapiecesowecanplaytogether,” Atsumu’s voice was so rushed it sounded like he would stop breathing, and Shouyou couldn’t stop the huff of laughter. He laughed again when Atsumu whined, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the words finally registered, Shouyou faltered, heart beating an irregular rhythm. He gulped, tightening his grip on Atsumu’s hand until the other peaked out from behind his elbow, eyes wide in apprehension. He exhaled slowly, opening his mouth and pausing, trying to collect himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I would like that, I think,” Shouyou’s voice was quiet, but it carried over the din of the restaurant. His heart felt like it would burst right then and there, but it somehow held on as Atsumu’s face slowly lit up, lips pulled into a beaming smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Atsumu and Shouyou walked back to the apartments, hands now easily slotted together as they swung between the two of them. They had work and responsibilities to return to tomorrow, but in this tiny moment of time, all that existed were the fleeting glances they stole and the heat of their fingers curled around each other.  When they stopped, it was because they had reached Shouyou’s doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sliver of moonlight pouring into the hallway blanketed Atsumu’s hair, and Shouyou blinked away the momentary flash of whiteness as he watched a glow settle around the other. He leaned his back against his door, taking a moment to drink in the sight of Atsumu; the setter had broad shoulders that strained against the fabric of his white button up, narrowing into a waist that was hidden by trim, smoothed out black jeans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou sighed appreciatively, unable to stop himself from hooking a finger into Atsumu’s belt loop and dragging the other closer to him. He laughed lightly at the alarmed, yet pleased look on Atsumu’s face as he drew closer without a complaint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou… ?” Atsumu’s voice was hesitant, and Shouyou couldn’t keep his eyes off the other’s lips, which shone in the moonlight. He licked his own lips to stop himself from pouncing that instant, a pang of smug satisfaction trailing down his throat when Atsumu’s eyes followed the path his tongue took from one end of his mouth to the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Atsumu,” Shouyou sighed, and before he could over think his words, he asked, “can I kiss you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Came the shaky reply, “god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu had leaned closer with every word, and with the final affirmation, their lips were crashing together. Shouyou barely felt the way he crashed against the door as Atsumu crowded even closer, one hand cupping his jaw while the other pressed to the door, effectively caging him into the small space between their chests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou playfully swiped his tongue across the line where Atsumu’s upper lip met the bottom, one hand losing itself to the curls of the setter’s hair while the other wrapped itself around his waist languidly. He hummed in pleasure when Atsumu’s lips parted, their tongues hesitantly meeting in the middle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand around his jaw slowly moved to Shouyou’s nape, tilting his head up so Atsumu could deepen the kiss, their tongues dancing around each other as the kisses turned messy with greed. The taste of ramen was present in each swipe of his tongue, but Shouyou didn’t mind—not if it was with Atsumu. Their teeth clashed sharply as Shouyou pressed himself flush against Atsumu, whining breathlessly when they pulled apart. Heat simmered in his stomach at the half lidded look Atsumu gave him, eyes glinting under the moon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou smirked devilishly, attaching his lips to Atsumu’s neck with enthusiasm. He delivered light bites up and down his neck, sucking and licking when Atsumu’s whimpers built enough to escape his lips. The grip of Atsumu’s hand around his neck was tighter with each bite, and Shouyou smirked when the setter tugged sharply at his hair when he bit down at an already forming bruise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yer a little demon, y’know that?” Atsumu’s voice was shaky and breathless as he tugged Shouyou’s hair to look up at him, and he couldn’t stop the playful smirk that spread across his lips. His whole body burned with want when Atsumu smirked back, their lips meeting in a hungry kiss again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their kisses eventually slowed down, puffs of airs mingling in the small gap between their lips, hands heavy on each other’s bodies as they simply pressed against each other. Shouyou pressed his nose against Atsumu’s pulse, drinking the rapid beat of his heart in as his eyes slid shut. His aids were barely hanging onto his ears, but he could perfectly hear the sound of every breath Atsumu that curled from his lips, and the sound of fabric rustling against fabric as their bodies moved together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their last kiss was slow and purposeful, tongues sliding over each other as their noses bumped against each other. Shouyou could feel Atsumu smiling into the kiss, and he couldn’t help but smile back, tugging the setter closer. When their lips parted with a pop, Shouyou almost let go of his inhibitions and dragged Atsumu into his apartment. But he stopped himself with a forced exhale; he wanted to do this in the right order, for this one thing in his life, he wanted it to happen correctly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to do this again,” Shouyou whispered, voice rough from lack of use. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your wish is my command,” Atsumu’s voice was equally as rough in his reply, and Shouyou made a noise of satisfaction when he pressed one last, sweet kiss to his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door closed, and Shouyou slid down it, and then, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think you’ll ever play us a piece?” Bokuto’s words were murmured, a volume only used in the stillness of night. Shouyou angled his head so he could see the other, eyes barely open in the morning hours before dawn. The sway of the bus almost lulled him back to sleep, but he held onto the conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to?” Shouyou’s voice was careful, but unhesitant. He knew the other players were still tip-toeing around Shouyou and the reveal of his previous prodigy status, but he hadn’t expected Bokuto to shy away from the topic for long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bokuto answered bluntly, honest in the way people tend to be when they talk before acceptable hours to be awake. Shouyou nodded wordlessly, briefly staring at his hands, hands he had slowly been readjusting to hold the weight of a bow, hands he had been curling around the neck of his cello in an achingly familiar way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll try,” Shouyou finally said, a tiny smile shining through the crack of his lips. He wasn’t really looking at Bokuto anymore, he was barely aware of his part in their conversation. He found himself watching the sleeping figure of Atsumu next to him, head curled up on his shoulder with the utmost of trust that Shouyou wouldn’t interrupt his sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back to see Bokuto watching them with a pleased, knowing smile, face washed in the shades of dawn and eyes dancing to the tune of a rumbling engine and snoring teammates. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>tsumu </b>
</p><p>
  <span>come to the gym asap bitch </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>me</b>
</p><p>
  <span>its my birthday arent you supposed to be nice to me, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>your BOYFRIEND</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>tsumu</b>
</p><p>
  <span>yeah yeah whatever </span>
</p><p>
  <span>hurry up :P</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou rolled his eyes playfully, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he hurried towards the gym. He couldn’t stop the large smile on his face though, the summer wind causing tufts of his hair to fly around; Atsumu had burst through his doors at midnight on June twenty first, jumping on him to pepper his face with kisses before ending with a lingering kiss on his forehead, before running back out the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, these texts, bright and early at eight in the morning in his inbox. Shouyou’s grin widened when he spotted the gym doors, adding a burst of speed so he could fly through the doors. What he saw stopped him in his paces, bag slipping out of his hand and crashing to the floor, while the other hand flew up to cover his gaping mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole team was there, sans the coaches and managers. Shouyou felt tears building in his eyes as he stared at what they were all standing around, throat wet with emotions, yet dry of words. He made burning eye contact with Atsumu, who stood directly next to the present, a satisfied grin on his face, arms wide in invitation for a hug. Shouyou didn’t disappoint, slamming forward at full speed to wrap his limbs around Atsumu, burying his face into the crook of the setter’s neck and shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou heard the team burst into laughter as the two wobbled from the sudden onslaught of weight, before dramatically crashing to the floor. Friendly pats and head rubs followed, and Shouyou sniffled pathetically as he looked up at all of them, eyes blurry with shed and unshed tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that I don’t like where you’re sitting right now,” Atsumu leered mockingly, laughing when familiar groans erupted from the team, “but don’t you want a closer look at your, ah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>present?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou finally turned to stare at the item they had all been crowding around, wordlessly clambering off Atsumu to draw himself closer to it. His heart felt like it would stop, but simultaneously fall right out of his chest because it was beating so quickly and loudly. He felt Atsumu wrap his arms around his waist, head resting gently on Shouyou’s shoulder, but he ignored that to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>stare. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A beautiful, dark wooden cello stood in front of him, shining under the lights of the gym. It was polished, and Shouyou could tell it had been done so painstakingly, with attention to every rivet and curve of the instrument. His hand reached out to experimentally pluck it, and he nearly sobbed at how deep and perfectly tuned the sound was. A matching case sat next to it, but Shouyou ignored it to lovingly run his hands over the wood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shou… do you like it?” Atsumu’s voice floated into his adoration of the gift, and he turned back to see the entire team watching him with expectant faces. He flushed, adjusting himself so he could keep one hand on the instrument while also keeping the team in his line of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like it? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like </span>
  </em>
  <span>it?” Shouyou asked incredulously, eyes widening when the team’s smiles dimmed, especially Atsumu, who looked like he had been curb stomped by Shouyou. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well-I-you—well, you said your old cello was falling apart, and we’ve all been saving up, and I thought—” Atsumu continued on and on, neck becoming red as his voice became more strained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tsumu—I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>it,” Shouyou interrupted before his poor boyfriend talked himself into an early grave, reaching out one hand to snag the other and drag him into another hug, face pressed into his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Shouyou cried, “thank you all so much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sudden battle cry, the whole team fell on them, and even though Shouyou could barely breathe with all the bodies pressing against him, with all the hands curling around him—he was happier to be alive than he had ever been in the past three years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou inhaled, and lifted the bow with an exhale. He repositioned his hands on the neck of the cello, and closed his eyes, letting the neck dig into the side of his jaw. He tightened his hold on the bow, and began to play. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was quiet, only the faint sound of murmurs floating through the barrier of his hearing aids. Before he lost himself to the playing he slid his eyes open one last time, letting warmth curl through his stomach at the sight. His twenty second birthday had passed without much fanfare other than the presentation of the new cello, but he and Atsumu had prepared a dinner party for the team and his friends tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo and Kenma were sitting with Bokuto and Sakusa, silently signing while shooting him encouraging smiles. Shuugo was lounging in between Barnes and Inunaki, elbows resting on his knees and giving Shouyou his full attention. And Atsumu sat directly to his right, legs crossed as he watched Shouyou with a calm, content look sliding across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou closed his eyes one more time and pressed his bow to string, a small sigh escaping his lips as he began to move his fingers up and down the neck; he drowned in the crescendoing notes of Elgar’s Cello Concerto, fingers loosening around the bow as he continued. He let the ever present vibrations of the instrument lead him, allowing the feeling of the bow and string’s harmonious meeting bleed into his very soul as he climbed through the movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music was faint, dull to his ears—but it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>there. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was there, filling his ears, vibrating under his hands and sending shivers through his body, it was there making his friends fall silent, it was there making Atsumu smile at him like he was the only person in the world that mattered. His bow hand shook, and he most definitely missed a few notes here and there, but Shouyou was playing again, and he couldn’t stop the few tears that slipped out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the bow finally paused, he opened his eyes with a small inhale, hand flying to his mouth in surprise at the instant standing ovation. The room was filled with thunderous applause, and he bashfully stood up to bow when they didn’t stop clapping. He turned to catch Atsumu’s gaze, cheeks flushing when the other simply smiled and winked at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou exhaled, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathed, </span>
  </em>
  <span>one hand wrapped around the neck of his cello, while the other intertwined itself with Atsumu’s hand. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoyed the ride this fic was !! if you ever wanna talk my socials are: </p><p>twt: boochas </p><p>tumblr: nikchai </p><p>&lt;3 !!! thank you for reading ;D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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